


trial and error

by Anonymous



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Clinical Study, Cuffs, Drugging, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Procedures, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Object Insertion, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, electro-play, not a good ending, read authors notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Seonghwa is the primary subject for a clinical study.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung & Kang Yeosang & Park Seonghwa, Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Kudos: 8
Collections: Anonymous





	trial and error

**Author's Note:**

> this fic, as tagged, is non-con. seonghwa has agreed to be part of a study, however the things that take place were not agreed upon when he consented to the study. there is no person/person noncon, everything is done with machines/objects. as well, this does not have a happy or hopeful ending. 
> 
> please proceed with caution, and let me know if there are any tags i should add.

Seonghwa wakes slowly.

Blinking his eyes open is difficult, and he has a lot of trouble keeping them open once he manages it. He's tired, limp against whatever hard surface he's on, and the lights in the room are overwhelmingly bright.

There is a sound to his left, a door opening and then closing. Footsteps, and Seonghwa tries as hard as he can to focus on the noises, on looking at whoever is here with him now.

Slowly, memories come filtering back. He'd signed up for a clinical study, one about sleep and memory and sensory experiences. It had promised a handsome pay, and only lasted over his fall reading week. It was perfect, would give him enough of a monetary boost to get him through until the new year. Seonghwa had jumped at the chance.

The two people who had entered the room speak quietly, saying something about levels. Seonghwa turns his head to the side, forces his eyes for focus on the man on his right side. He's wearing glasses and is holding a clipboard, seems to be writing down whatever it is the man on his left is saying. He's very handsome, and his name tag reads something too blurry for Seonghwa's eyes to read.

He wants to know how the study is going, but when he opens his mouth, his throat is dry, tongue unable to form the words. He just rasps a noise, trying to articulate that he needs water, and the man with the clipboard flicks his gaze up to look at him, then right back down at his papers. He nods when the man on Seonghwa's left reads out a long number, and Seonghwa moves so he can face that person instead.

Another dry rasp, and the man on his left ignores him for as long as it takes him to read something off a screen. When he's done with that, he straightens, looking down his nose at Seonghwa.

"He's thirsty," he says, eyes lifting to meet the other man's, and Seonghwa nods uselessly, going ignored as his head flops against the hard surface he's been laid on. Still mostly unaware of his body, he swallows as best he can, watching the man reach for a water bottle.

There is a clink and a tug on Seonghwa's wrists and neck when he tries to sit up and take the bottle from the man. It puzzles him, until he manages to angle his head down to look down at his arms. Thick padded cuffs keep him locked to the table he's been laid on, flat metal, unyielding under his body. It makes a lick of panic flit through him, but then there is a straw being pushed against his lips, and the need for water overpowers anything else he could consider thinking about. His dry lips part, and the water feels like a balm against the parched inside of his mouth and throat. Blinking quickly, he stares at the man in the lab coat, hoping the water will not be taken away too quickly; he's so thirsty.

As if he can hear Seonghwa's thoughts, the man pinches the bend of the straw where it isn't inside Seonghwa's mouth, and tugs it out. Throat wet now, the noise Seonghwa makes is far more articulate, a whine of displeasure around what sounds like a broken plea.

"You're noting that, right?" the man asks, and the one on Seonghwa's right hums. He turns his head, throat tight as he realizes when he jerks on the table, trying out his mobility, that his ankles and neck are bound in padded restraints as well. His legs are spread, and as he stares at the man to his right, the one on his left moves down towards his feet. Two holsters are lifted from under the metal table, and Seonghwa jerks, trying uselessly to kick when his left ankle is unclipped from the table. He doesn't have any strength, though, and he's moved easily, his foot placed in a rounded support. The cuff is locked to the metal arm of the device, and then the man repeats the same steps on his right leg.

Panic and fear are clutching at his insides. Now his legs are not only spread, they're held up and open. He shifts in the restraints, but nothing budges. His body is still so weak.

"Took a while for him to move," the man on his right remarks, and the other man scoffs.

"I mean, yeah," he says, rolling his eyes a little. "They put him down hard after the stunt he tried to pull yesterday. Didn't you read the report, Yeosangah?"

It takes Seonghwa a moment to put together that the man on his right must be named Yeosang, too focused on wondering what happened yesterday. He can't remember anything.

Yeosang huffs. "Obviously I did," he snips, sounding peeved. "It was an observation, dumbass. That's our job."

"Yeah, yeah," the other man waves dismissively, walking up to rummage through something behind where Seonghwa is trapped. There is the sound of something being unspooled, some metal clinks, and then he and Yeosang are walking to the end of the table together. The man hands Yeosang something, and they work in silence as they plug things into something under the table Seonghwa is strapped to. Yeosang finishes first, making a triumphant little noise as the other one pouts, and then he's reaching up and pushing Seonghwa's last line of defense, the thin hospital robe he's wearing, up over his legs to expose him completely.

The air in the room is cool, and Seonghwa shivers when Yeosang pressed cold metal to his skin, taping it to his body with what looks like normal duct tape. The other man joins him, and soon enough, Seonghwa has probably about a dozen of the little metal pieces stuck to his skin.

"Your turn today, Wooyoung," Yeosang says, and the other man nods. Seonghwa now knows both of their names, tries to hold on to the information, even as things slip through his brain like sand through his fingers. Wooyoung grabs something from a table by the door, uncapping the bottle and squirting a clear viscous liquid onto his gloved fingers. He steps back up to the end of the table, between Seonghwa's legs, and Seonghwa doesn't even have time to register what's about to happen before the fingers are pushing against his hole.

His mouth is gaped open, his sounds far from words as he thrashes as best he can. The restraints don't give him much leeway, and Wooyoung ignores him completely, shoving both fingers into him callously. Seonghwa shrieks, tears blurring his vision, and Yeosang steps back into his line of sight, holding something in his hand.

"Should I?" he asks, and Wooyoung lifts his gaze for half a moment, before dropping it to his task again, shrugging.

"Doesn't bother me, I don't give a shit," he says, pushing his fingers in deeper and deeper with each thrust. The metal links connecting him to the table clatter noisily, and he continues to make as much noise as he can. He needs someone outside this room to hear him, to come help him.

"I dunno," Yeosang muses, turning whatever it is he's got between his hands. He's staring down at Seonghwa, uninterested beyond a clinical curiosity. "I'm inclined not to. I wanna be able to track as accurately as possible his reactions after last night."

"Sounds fine," Wooyoung sounds bored, even as the two fingers turn into three. They're only pumped into him a few times before he pulls them out completely. He moves back to the table, squirting more of what must be lube into his palm, and then he's picking something else up from the table.

Seonghwa screams. He's pulling so hard at the cuffs, shaking his head back and forth as he pants.

The thing Wooyoung is holding is thick and long, and Seonghwa knows where it's going as soon as it's in his sight. He feels wild, like a trapped animal, but there's nothing he can do as Wooyoung takes his place between Seonghwa's legs.

The object is pressed up against his hole, and Seonghwa tries moving, desperate for this not to happen. Wooyoung ignores Seonghwa completely, looking up at where Yeosang is standing by the screens to Seonghwa's left. He's got his clipboard again.

"Ready," he says, and Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, and then the object is being forced into his asshole. The pain isn't as bad as he thought it would be, but the reality of this is terrifying. His whole body is locked up, every muscle tensed, but nothing stops the object from being pushed into him all the way.

"Almost," Wooyoung grits his teeth as he speaks, rolling his lips in as he pushes harder. Something even wider is shoving up against his rim, now, and when it pops into him, Seonghwa realizes its to keep the object inside him. There seems to be a base, too, and Wooyoung steps back once it's pressing up against Seonghwa's ass.

"He took it well, all things considered," Yeosang says it idly, and when Seonghwa manages to tear his gaze over to look at him, he sees the pen scratching quickly against the paper. His head keeps moving as he looks up at the screens and then back down at the page.

"Let me know when to turn it on," Wooyoung speaks around a yawn, pulling his gloves off and tossing them in a little trash bin. He pulls another pair on, the thin latex snapping in the otherwise quiet room. There is only the steady sound of Seonghwa panting, his occasional noises, and the low whir of the machines.

"Okay, done," Yeosang states, and Wooyoung mutters something under his breath that Seonghwa misses, but that makes Yeosang flip him off for. Wooyoung crouches at the foot of the table, and there's a little click as something is switched on.

Immediately, Seonghwa is choking. He inhaled too quickly, and he coughs messily as each of the little metal circles start to pulse. It feels so strange, and Wooyoung steps back, looking down at him as he jolts with every pulse. As the seconds pass, the pulses become little flicks of electricity, and Seonghwa jerks in his bonds as the intensity climbs.

He doesn't understand why, but his cock is getting hard. Laying against his stomach, it drips onto his skin as the pulses mount further and further, and none of it feels good, per se, it's all just a lot of sensation. He's never had something feel like this, and it's confusing.

The orgasm hits him completely out of nowhere. There is no telltale buildup, nothing to indicate it's coming. One second he's twitching under each pulse, and the next he's spurting cum up his chest.

"Time," Wooyoung calls.

"Four minutes, thirteen seconds," Yeosang answers him. Seonghwa vaguely registers the sound of pen against paper, but it feels vastly unimportant when Wooyoung crouches again.

"Starting the E711," he says, and Seonghwa has no idea what to expect. There is a little click as something else is turned on, and then the object in his ass is pulsing as well.

Seonghwa is sobbing, can hear himself hiccuping around his own tears, choking on breath as whatever it is that is happening to him, happens. Instead of starting slow, like the metal sensors had, the object inside him starts at the same level as the other pulses. It's far too intense, and he doesn't understand what's happening when he comes again. It's too soon, hurts in a way that is completely inescapable.

"Time," Wooyoung calls again, and Seonghwa sobs a sound that builds into a yell. He yells over Yeosang's response, but Wooyoung doesn't seem to care much. Stepping back, he leans against the wall casually, staring at Seonghwa like he's some halfway interesting animal at a zoo. His lab coat has pockets, and he shoves his hands into them as he stares.

Time passes strangely. He comes again, more times than he can count, and Wooyoung and Yeosang mark it with their call and response each time. Seonghwa begins to drift, haze overtaking him as the pulses even out, the level of electricity they're pushing into him so high he jerks against the table with every one, beyond his power.

"He's quieting down," the voice is muted, like Seonghwa is hearing him through a wall. It's Yeosang, though, and Seonghwa rolls his head over to look at him. He's got no more tears leaking from his eyes, and when he comes again, nothing drips from his tired cock.

"Time," Wooyoung says, sounding bored, and Yeosang nods.

"Three hours, sixteen minutes, four seconds," he says. "Is he dry, yet?"

"Yeah," pushing off from the wall, Wooyoung steps forward. "Turning off all devices. Time."

The machines power down with a descending hum, and Seonghwa twitches against the table as the stimulation goes from so much to nothing at all. Wooyoung stands again, lip pulling back in a grimace.

"He's grosser than usual," he says, and it makes Seonghwa whimper. He's broken, limp against the metal table as he shivers. "I'll call the techs. You wanna cut it?"

"Sure," Yeosang agrees easily, and then Wooyoung is leaving the room. It's just Seonghwa and Yeosang now, and Seonghwa stares up at him, pleading with his eyes for Yeosang to help him, free him, show him any indication that he knows this is wrong.

"Experiment SP42, day 827, concluded," is all Yeosang says, and it takes a moment to register in Seonghwa's mind.

Day 827. 827? Eight hundred and twenty-seven? No, no, there must be something wrong. Eyes widening in distress, Seonghwa yanks at all the restraints, choking himself as he tries to lift his head. He's still so weak, but the adrenaline of learning this propels him forward, up. He can't get far, of course, coughing as his tender windpipe is allowed air again when he collapses back against the table. 

Yeosang pays him no mind, blinking down at him blankly before looking back over at the screen. His pen scratches quietly against the paper as he writes something down, and Seonghwa closes his eyes, pulled under by exhaustion and fear and helplessness.


End file.
